


Imperfect

by AClusterOfFandoms



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos' past, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Drunk Carlos, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AClusterOfFandoms/pseuds/AClusterOfFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason that Carlos isn't comfortable being called perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfect

Carlos leaned his head against the wall and pulled up his knees, staring intensely at his drink (his fourth?). His stomach turned and his chest ached. The latest colleague had died today and the university had finally agreed to stop sending people. He was alone, now, and he would probably die here too.

A nagging voice at the back of his head had been getting louder while he drank. Now it was screaming and Carlos was at breaking point- literally. He was imagining a blade cutting into his upper forearm, the blood oozing out. 'Do it' the voice teased. 'You might as well, it wouldn't be the first time'.

"NO!" He yelled, hurling his glass at the door in front of him. He got up and paced the room, rapidly losing his grip on what he'd come to call reality. Before he knew it he was stood with a scalpel in his hand, his sleeve rolled up revealing almost countless times he'd done this before. But it had been years. Carlos had been 18 the last time he had cut. 15 years, Goddamnit! 15 years he'd managed. He put the blade to his skin.

"Carlos!" It was Cecil, knocking on the door. "Carlos, are you okay?" He quickly rolled down his sleeve and went to the door, trying desperately not to step on any glass. Cecil's face looked scared- no, concerned.   
"I'm tfine, Cecil. I just dropped a beaker, it's nothing." He wasn't a brilliant liar at the best of times, never mind after a few drinks. Cecil saw right through him. He looked away, but this drew the others attention to his feet which, despite his best efforts, were cut slightly.

"Carlos, you're bleeding." Without further questions, Cecil pushed the door further open, located the first aid kit and wrapped up his boyfriend's feet. They were sat on the sofa, Cecil purring about how Carlos was so great, when he snapped.  
"Oh, my perfect Carlos…" He stood up quickly, making him dizzy and slightly nauseated.   
"I am not perfect, Cecil. I'm no where near. I'm a pathetic loner who ran away to this weird town because he didn't want to face his old life and now this town is hurting me to- except it isn't! Everyone else has either died or left but its not killed me yet and I can't leave because of you! And now I realise that you say such great things about me but you don't even know me, so God knows why I'm sticking around!" He ranted angrily at Cecil, his fingers digging into his arm.

The voice of Night Vale watched him calmly, confused and hurt. He stood too.  
"But Carlos- you are perfect. To me you are." He said, truthfully. He turned on him rapidly.  
"No, Cecil, I can't be perfect! I can't ever be perfect." There was an expression, a question on Cecil's face that he both wanted and did not want to ask. Carlos answered it anyway.   
"Look." He rolled up his left sleeve to show the marks he'd put there as a teenager, a constant reminder of how horrible his life had been. Shock covered the other's face.  
"How did you get those?" He asked.   
"I did it myself. Years ago." Cecil looked horrified.  
"But why?"  
"Because I wanted to." He shrugged at looked away. "If you hadn't shown up tonight I probably would've done it again. And that's why I can't be perfect. I'm wired up wrong- it doesn't make sense, to cut your own skin in order to feel better. Hurting yourself more to stop the pain. It's irrational. I'm imperfect." Cecil looked at him for a moment before stepping forwards and wrapping him in his arms. It wasn't a wild, passionate embrace, it was a hug that held him together. They looked into each other's eyes.  
"Carlos, you could have those lines all over your body and it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference. You are my Carlos, and scars can't change that." He smiled shyly.  
"That's not what people usually say. They usually think I'm crazy and that I obviously want to kill myself, so I should be hospitalised or something." There was a pause. "I don't, by the way- want to kill myself, I mean."  
"I don't like these other people. Are they the same ones that didn't want you to love other men?" He nodded.   
"Mhmm," he hummed softly. They had sat back down on the sofa without noticing.  
"Well, like I said before, screw them." They both laughed and the  there was a silence. "I'm always here for you, y'know, Carlos. Whenever you need me."  
"Thank you, Cecil." Carlos was leaning on Cecil's chest now, and the other man's breathing had a calming effect on him.  
"So, do you want to tell me what happened in here?" He nodded and began the complicated story of the last scientist's demise and how he'd be the only imperfect scientist in Night Vale from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> This kind of went off track. Sorry about that. Carlos' experience of cutting despite better judgement is quite close to me. Sorry again for any typos. It's late. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
